


Resolve

by AraniWrites



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Kirrahe week, Other, feels abound, non-canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 14:19:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13742757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AraniWrites/pseuds/AraniWrites
Summary: Captain Kirrahe and Commander Shepard form a closer bond than either had anticipated.





	Resolve

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this up for Kirrahe Week! Sorry it's slightly rushed but I hope you all enjoy it regardless!
> 
> (This is non-canon; this is an exploration of what might have happened if Kirrahe was a squadmate in the trilogy)

Kirrahe didn’t think much of Shepard when he first met them. There wasn’t time to think much, except to take note of the expression etched into their features; a soldier solving a very difficult problem.

Shepard listened to him intently. His plan to destroy the Virmire facility is a dangerous one, a gamble at best, a disaster at worst. Yet the Commander listened, more than that they agreed. The battle would not be easy, but STG never planned for easy. Shepard gets a laugh out of that one, an easy smile gracing their face, and Kirrahe finds himself smiling in turn.

Until it goes wrong. Until it goes horribly, horribly wrong, just as he’d unfortunately predicted it would.

Kirrahe hadn’t expected to survive, and he was at peace with that. But Commander Shepard saved him and many of his squad, and from that act Kirrahe gained a newfound respect for them. Many more Salarians had been lost, and the Commander had lost one of their own men to his plan. The grief was felt all across the Normandy ship. The guilt weighed on Kirrahe’s shoulders.

Kirrahe found Shepard drinking alone on their way back to the Citadel. There was a silence born of respect; they understood. Shepard poured him a drink, Kirrahe told a story from one of his first STG missions, and Shepard smiled even through his sadness. Kirrahe found it infectious.

And, as they neared the Citadel, Kirrahe felt that he needed to do more. Shepard had saved him and his men, had risked their life to destroy the base on Virmire and complete their mission. After hearing what Saren had done to others of his kind, Kirrahe couldn’t find it within him to walk away from this problem— Saren needed to be stopped, and Kirrahe was all too happy to lend his assistance to the cause. Shepard welcomed him to the Normandy with open arms; he gained approval from his higher-ups, said goodbye to his men and joined Shepard that day, ready to fight Saren again, ready to make his statement.

The Normandy crew was a patchwork of strange characters that made for a surprisingly, sometimes alarmingly, effective team. He enjoyed the energy they brought with them, the occasional jokes over coms. It was almost like a little family on that ship, with Shepard at the lead keeping their spirits high. Kirrahe came to admire Shepard, someone who became a fast friend even in the midst of unrelenting odds. They liked to talk during target practice, and Kirrahe found himself looking forward to each and every conversation. Shepard was eternally fascinating, kindness mixed with terrifying rage, compassionate beside a by-the-book born soldier, a paradox of endless complexity, and Kirrahe was hooked on every word they said.

And when it was time to save the Citadel Kirrahe was there, right at Shepard’s side. He had no qualms in following Shepard’s orders, he just did with laser focused accuracy, never straying far from the Commander’s side. Garrus commented on them being a scarily effective team in the midst of a firefight, and Shepard laughed; Kirrahe didn’t realize how much he’d wanted to hear it.

And just like that, it was over. Saren was dead, the Citadel saved, and STG needed him back. Shepard let him go with grace, a smile and a firm handshake.

“I hope we’ll work together again, Commander.” Kirrahe told them.

“Stay in touch and I’m sure we will.” Shepard responded, and Kirrahe agreed. A friendship born in the fires of conflict.

And then Shepard died.

Kirrahe was stunned. And without even realizing it, he grieved for weeks. His squad was worried but they respected his privacy; he couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t accept Shepard, his friend, just being gone. Gone before he could truly know them. Gone from a galaxy that needed them. Kirrahe couldn’t let that stand; he’d resolved to continue in STG, to be the best he could in his field. After all, that’s what Shepard would have done.

Before he’d realized it, two years had passed by. He remained with STG, sent on mission after mission. Grief faded over time, making room for fond remembrance. Life continued on as normal, worlds continued to turn, and it seemed like people forgot. The Citadel was being rebuilt, but every time Kirrahe returned on business he couldn’t help but remember the smile that entranced him so completely.

Then, one day while on leave, Kirrahe received a call. He answered absently as he wrote up a report, “I listen.”

_“Kirrahe?”_

Kirrahe dropped his datapad. 

“…Shepard?”

It was them. It was _Shepard_. After two years, after the galaxy was convinced they were dead, Shepard was talking to him. He didn’t believe it at first. It took Shepard recounting a story he’d told them in confidence to convince Kirrahe that this was, in fact, the real Shepard speaking to him. 

_It’s Shepard._

_It’s Shepard!_

_This is real!_

Kirrahe had a thousand questions, and Shepard was very out of the loop in terms of Galactic news. Soon enough Kirrahe was on the Citadel meeting his friend in person. They were scarred up, torn and a little bit broken, but it was really Shepard smiling the same smile Kirrahe remembered so well, and suddenly the universe seemed a little bit brighter. He caught Shepard up on things that had happened in the past two years and Shepard answered every question he asked them. It was as if the two years had passed by in minutes, their friendship rekindled instantly and without hesitance, they laughed like they’d never been apart in the first place. 

They talked over coms, sent email after email. Every so often between work they met at the Citadel. One meeting turned into two, three, four, five. Each time they met Shepard looked a little more exhausted, but was nevertheless resolve. They were the first to know when Kirrahe was promoted to Major. Shepard was funny, attentive, calm and passionate, and Kirrahe found himself more relaxed when he was with Shepard than when he was with his own squad. Eventually they told Kirrahe everything they knew about the Reapers, the Collectors, the suicide mission they’d soon be embarking on. Kirrahe believed every word they said and asked what he could do, wanted to come along on this mission, wanted to be there to help Shepard take down the Collectors; Shepard said no. They both had their own duties. They didn’t want to put Kirrahe in harms way like that, not when he was such a key member of STG. So Kirrahe saw them off, watched as the Normandy left the Citadel and hoped that this time Shepard would actually return.

When they did, Kirrahe told them off for being a reckless cloaca. Shepard laughed. Kirrahe skipped a breath.

When the Reaper’s hit Earth, Kirrahe was practically glued to the news channels that still functioned throughout Council space. He hadn’t heard from Shepard since their arrest, but the Reaper hit shook him to his core. He’d always believed Shepard but this? The images that had been smuggled from the Sol system were almost too terrifying to contemplate. It was more than he ever could have anticipated, and he knew that Shepard was most likely down there fighting for their life in a place Kirrahe could not follow. 

Then there were rumors that Shepard had escaped Sol, but Kirrahe didn’t believe them until Shepard showed up on Sur’Kesh to get the fertile Krogan females. Shepard saw him and smiled, the wear and tear seeming to disappear from their face momentarily as he hugged them. And when Cerberus attacked the base he was somehow there, right at Shepard’s side, fighting their way through waves of soldiers like they’d done on the Citadel so many years before. It was like clockwork, and they were hooked once more.

“Let me come with you, Shepard.”

“STG won’t like that.”

“Screw STG, you need me more. I won’t let you go on another suicide mission without me.”

“You think this is a suicide mission?”

“Against the Reapers, every day from this point on will be a suicide mission. I want to be there and make sure we survive it.”

Shepard welcomed him aboard with that same smile, and Kirrahe felt right at home on the Normandy as he had before, like he’d never left at all. Shepard was so busy, but did their best to keep the crew’s moral up. They worked hard and tirelessly to build the Crucible, and Kirrahe was there with extra ammunition or a stiff drink when they needed it.

“You like Shepard.” Mordin once commented to him. “Should tell them. Less messy than finding out second hand.”

“You are such a cloaca sometimes, you know that?” Mordin laughed, but the words stuck. They really, really stuck.

And when Mordin died, someone who had been a friend to both of them, Shepard and Kirrahe found solace in one another. Shepard divulged every fear, every insecurity, every damaging and distressing thought that they wouldn’t succeed. Shepard cried, and Kirrahe held them that night. The Galaxy saw Shepard as an immortal hero, but Kirrahe found it much easier to simply see Shepard as human. Human, flawed, utterly and perfectly _mortal_. He found he liked that more than someone who was nothing more than a figurehead.

Kirrahe was there on Tuchanka. He was there when they liberated Rannoch. He was there when Cerberus attacked the Citadel, when they discovered the horrors of Sanctuary, and when Thessia fell to the Reapers. He was there for every breathless moment, and worried incessantly when Shepard didn’t bring him along for something, for anything. He watched as Shepard unified a Galaxy against the Reapers, so undeniably proud of them and everything they were doing, proud to be there by their side. And in the quiet, Kirrahe wondered why he worried so much whenever they were gone, why he found himself staring when Shepard walked by, why he lost his words whenever Shepard smiled.

 _“You like Shepard.”_ Mordin had said.

Kirrahe wished he’d realized that sooner.

But there wasn’t time. Before long they were headed back to Earth. The Crucible was finished, the Galaxy was united, all of them were prepared to risk their lives in the fight. Before the fight could start STG asked him to lead a Salarian battalion into battle on Earth, taking him away from the Normandy. Taking him away from Shepard.

Shepard said it was alright, but the pain on their face was almost too much for Kirrahe to bare. They didn’t want to separate, Kirrahe wanted to be with Shepard on the ground but they had duties, they both knew that, and they needed to execute them if they were going to stop the Reapers.

They went their separate ways before the battle began, and only got to see each other once more at a staging area in London. By sheer happenstance what was left of his battalion had ended up there, preparing for the march ahead. They were both tired, but they were ready to face the Reapers once and for all.

Kirrahe had so many things he wanted to say. So many thoughts and feelings he didn’t know how to articulate. But Shepard was busy and distracted and so _tired_ that Kirrahe didn’t know what to do. So he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but wish Shepard luck.

“Commander.”

“Major.”

There was no dramatic declaring of affection, no sudden bursts of confidence or acts of care, no running to stop them like one would see in a vid. They had to go in different directions. And _if_ , they promised, if they both survived, they would find each other again. There were no illusions about the probability of their survival, but Shepard convinced him it would be okay. Kirrahe had to believe that.

And when it was over, when the Reapers fell and the Citadel and Crucible lay in tangled ruins on Earth’s surface, Kirrahe wished he’s said more.

He wished he’d said something as he picked his way through the rubble.

He wished he’d said something when he helped them search one tiny area at a time.

He wished he’s said something when survivors began screaming.

_“Here, they’re here!”_

_“Bring paramedics!”_

_“We need heavy equipment!”_

_“Call the Krogan!”_

He wanted to say something when they pulled Shepard’s broken and mangled body from the rubble. 

He wanted to say something as he sat at Shepard’s bedside, life support machines beeping on and on and on.

He wanted to say something as he held Shepard’s hand in the dead of night when no one else was there to see.

He wanted to say something as he waited. As he continued to wait for what seemed like lifetimes. As he was resolve to wait for as long as it took.

Shepard’s eyes opened.

Kirrahe said the words he’d always wanted to say.

Shepard, broken and bruised and exhausted but undeniably _Shepard_ , smiled.


End file.
